Fujiko & Zenigata: 5 Times They Did and One Time They Didn't
by silverwolfcc
Summary: Chapter 1 specifically references The Woman Called Fujiko Mine episodes 4 & 6, and Oscar. It takes place behind the scenes so spoilers for episode 6 of that. MINI-Spoilers for the other chapters referencing Green Jacket & Red Jacket series, but you can read the other chapters without necessarily knowing the episodes involved.
1. 1: Pleasure and Pain

Fujiko was an artist, above all else. A _con_ artist, that is, but still an artist, of sorts. She put a lot of preparation into her "work," even if the project in question was all about breaking fifteen laws and a half dozen hearts. Hell, if she put the much devotion into something legitimate, she probably wouldn't have to scrounge for money the way she did. But then, of course, she wouldn't be the artist that she undoubtedly was.

Watching her put on a show amused Zenigata with the best of them. She worked so hard at it, and for what? Who did she even think she was fooling with that show? It was entertaining if nothing else, and who was he not to oblige an audience? He wasn't going to let himself get conned, but what was an artist without someone to view their construct? Fujiko's art wasn't on any canvas, and she was never any good with paint, but she made herself up like a china doll or set up a dramatic scene in a way even Alfred Hitchcock would have had to envy if he'd known about it.

Zenigata never fooled himself for a second that Fujiko actually enjoyed herself the first time. Oh, that wasn't to say she didn't have her fun, but her fun came in from acting and putting on the show. That's why Zenigata enjoyed it. Because he couldn't for the life of him understand why she put on such a big show if she wasn't enjoying it. And that was hilarious in and of itself. He couldn't resist teasing her about it later though, just for that dour pouty look on her face; full lips puckered and begging to be bit, wide brown eyes trying to act innocent even as they betrayed her sudden flush of guilt.

Oh yes, Zenigata was definitely entertained by it all. Con artist or not, Fujiko Mine was undeniably a professional artist at what she did.

Of course, her lack of the usual enjoyment in the act puzzled Zenigata with her return. If she'd only initially slept with him to put on a show, and Zenigata hadn't been fooled for a second, who was she putting the show on for now? He didn't have time to ask though, she was full of fire, and anger, and violence. This was another Fujiko Mine, still forever a con artist, and still putting on a show, but a different one all the same. Her anger was more authentic. Like a painter working with their true medium instead of trying to be the best at a different forum of paints.

"Ah Fujiko, wait!" he gasped, pressed back with the sudden force of her weight as she savagely bit his neck. She was like a woman possessed, and while he wasn't about to complain, even Koichi didn't know what was going on. Why was she here for this? Why the sudden-?

He let out a long low groan as she dragged sharp painted nails down his chest under the buttons she undid with her teeth. Fuck.

"No waiting," she purred, shooting him a fierce grin that couldn't truly be called "coy," but it was clear she was trying to be coy in spite of her sudden aggression.

"No waiting?" he echoed in confusion, but she shut him up with a hard kiss, slipping her tongue inside his mouth, and his objections became that much harder to voice, in more than one way. He was only human after all, and Fujiko painted a pretty picture even more when she was wild like this. Zenigata still wondered what set her off, but less and less out of concern and more and more so he could make sure it happened again sometime in the future.

She was quiet this time. No faked screams of joy, no stretching out dramatically to show off her flexibility. After all, she'd already put on that show, and as amused as Zenigata had been, that hadn't been her initial goal, and it wasn't her goal now. Her true goal was a mystery, but Zenigata was beginning to suspect that it was to kill him via sex. Not that it was a bad way to go. Hell, come to think, if he had to actually choose a way to die, that might be it. And death by sex with Fujiko Mine was probably the way most men his age would choose. Then again, given some of the rumors of her love for much older men on their deathbeds, Fujiko probably _had_ killed a few men like that.

Sharp blood-red nails raked the insides of his legs, and Fujiko elicited exact reaction she seemed to desire. "OW Fujiko! Stop! I'll die like this!" Zenigata yelped almost frantically.

Fujiko's wicked grin spread broadly at that, whatever she was trying to get out of it, it definitely seemed linked to his cries of pain. She flipped a lock of hair out of the way and bobbed her head to lick over the top of his penis, still grinning mischievously. She held complete control over the situation in her hands, the ones sliding playfully over his balls and lightly scratching his all too sensitive thighs again - and there wasn't a thing Zenigata could think of to regain control, even assuming he'd had any to begin with. Hadn't she really been the one in control the first time too? He had thought so long as he wasn't getting conned she was losing, but what did that really mean now?

"Fujiko..." he begged, hating the way his voice sounded weak. He wasn't even sure what he was begging her for. More? Less? For her to climb up onto his lap and ride him as hard as she seemed to desperately want? Whatever her game was, she was definitely winning, but then, he was getting this out of it, so there was always that.

She purred happily at how needy his voice was, oh yes, she definitely liked that, and slipped her tongue lower over the shaft, sucking to the back of her throat with another happy note as she took off her own thigh-highs - again, putting on a show for the Inspector, as dazed as he already was. Several words filtered through his head, like corruption, and bribes, and disciplinary actions - yet, for the life of him, Koichi still couldn't figure out what she wanted. He wasn't arrogant enough to believe she just wanted rough sex and chose him for it, no, he knew her better than that. But just knowing there was another angle wasn't enough to figure out what that angle was, and the way she was pawing and licking his most sensitive areas was _incredibly_ distracting. Of course, that had to be intentional too, so it definitely meant she was winning. Whatever that meant.

"FUJIKO!" another yelp, a startled gasp, and a desperate, almost squeamish, moan escaped the middle-aged detective. The woman between his legs looked up at him coyly, the hair she'd moved out of the way was already back in front of a giant brown eye, and the bright red lips slipped back along his shaft. "No biting!" he growled firmly, pointing a finger to scold her. She hadn't completely bitten him, but her teeth around the foreskin had been above and beyond any amount of playful sadomasochism, enough to certainly worry him.

She pouted slightly, but clearly admonished, she made her repentance by going back to licking him off more gently. He rumbled merrily in pleasure, simply watching her show off. Just like the last time, she got more into it, the more she could show off, and if all it took to stroke her ego was to give her some appreciative attention like this, that was certainly easy enough to oblige. He had clenched his hands on the edge of the armrests of his chair, but he cautiously moved one to brush the lock of hair out of her eyes.

The dark glare she shot him for the trespass made his hand freeze in tucking it behind her ear. Ah, of course. Such an intimate gesture wasn't something Fujiko wanted in this wild state of hers. She had to be in control, and she wanted it rough. Zenigata chuckled throatily in spite of himself, even as he drew back his hand so it wouldn't get bitten. "Just what are you doing here?" he asked out loud in bewilderment. Last he'd heard she was working as a teacher at an all girls' school. Maybe she was just sick of having to act so soft and gentle and being surrounded by so much of it in return. It almost seemed like her style. Almost.

Either way, she didn't give him an answer, just hooded her eyes in the shadows of her hair and went to focusing on trying to make the Inspector cum in her mouth. Wild woman. On anyone else, Zenigata would have said they were out of control, but he definitely knew better. Fujiko was in complete control, which just deepened the mystery of this encounter. He wasn't going to lose control himself. At least, not much more than he already had, anyway. And the way his legs spread more, and maybe inched very slightly toward her gorgeous mouth, was in no way a surrender. He was just a man, that's all.

"Fujiko..." He was pleased with how much more solid his voice was this time. In control, definitely. Fujiko wasn't as pleased with it though. Her dark eyes narrowed, and there was a small frown - his only warning before sharp nails raked his thighs again, like a tiger's swift paw. His head lolled back with a sharp low groan, she was mixing pleasure and pain again like an artist mixing paints, and he couldn't even bring himself to hate it. She smirked at his reaction and rewarded him for it by picking up the speed, sucking a little harder, and a lot faster.

"Fujiko, Fujiko, Fujiko..." he warned, letting his voice edge into a begging sort of tone again. She liked it so much, he might as well let her have it.

And oh, how she liked it. The more Zenigata begged, the happier Fujiko got, pressing her chest against his legs, her breasts so soft and larger than any porn star's, rubbed up against his thighs as Fujiko rocked, moving not just her head, but her whole body in a rhythm just so the Inspector wouldn't have to.

"_I'm going to die_," he gasped, gripping the armrests tightly under white knuckles.

She definitely seemed to like that, humming again, and rewarding him with gentle pets to his balls instead of claws. This didn't help him keep self control however, and whatever Fujiko Mine had in mind, if her goal wasn't to make him come so quickly, she needed to learn to be less aggressive from the start. He tried to warn her again, just before he came, but she smacked his hand away, and happily licked up every lost drop of semen, swallowing down a couple mouthfuls and making a large bukkake show of the rest.

Wild woman indeed.

Zenigata just watched almost helplessly in dazed amazement. What the hell was on her mind? This show, the blowjob, the aggression, the violence, all of it was individually a puzzle piece, but even putting them all together, Zenigata couldn't see the grander picture of what she was up to. She finished licking him clean like a cat and climbed into his lap. He quirked an eyebrow at her. "Satisfied?" he asked in a grumpy growl. Grumpy, because he still didn't know what she was up to, even if he was enjoying the attempts to figure it out. His large hands braced around her soft ass resting on his knee, which only reminded him of how it matched her breasts from earlier.

"Not by a long shot," she smiled wickedly.

He snorted quietly, swiveling the desk chair around so it was closer to his desk where he could try to reach for a smoke and lighter. "Maybe all that time at the girl's school made you forget something in the difference of anatomies," he suggested dryly, moving to grab a cigarette. She closed the draw on his fingers, and smiled even more at his yelp of pain. Bitch.

"Forgotten?" she mockingly put a finger to her chin as though thinking, completely ignoring the way he had to shake off the pain from the clipped fingertips. "No, Inspector, I don't think I have!" He arched an eyebrow again, fixing her with a plaintive look to try to remind her about _science._ Women could have multiple orgasms back to back - if they were lucky, and had a skilled enough partner, but men?

Before he could even say a word though, she pushed the chair away from the desk, carefully straddled Zenigata's waist and heaving a noticeably deep breath - forcing her breasts up against his chest of course - she leaned in to clippingly whisper in his ears. "Oh, I know it's going to hurt to make you get hard again for me, Inspector," a nervous chill already ran down his spine and it had little to do with the soft warm lips sucking on his earlobe. It _did_ have everything to do with her words and the way those painted nails dragged low down his chest again. "But you will for _me,_ won't you?"

She wanted to kill him with sex, that was the only explanation. Why she'd picked him specifically he had no idea, but clearly she wanted to kill an older man with sex and make it painful at that. Painful and glorious. He was almost tempted to pray for mercy, but Zenigata silently suspected he was beyond help from even the gods now.

He didn't have words to answer her with. How could he? Even if he said he wasn't going to let her get him hard again, at this point he doubted his body would obey him, and fuck, if he _said_ that, she'd just view it as a challenge and redouble her efforts. Evil woman. Evil. Fine, if he was going to go down, he'd go down swinging. He tugged her closer on his lap and sucked on an earlobe of hers in response, rough hands roaming over her far too delicate shoulders and breasts. She gasped once in pleasure, before stubbornly deciding he wasn't allowed to try to turn the tables on her and moved to pin his hands again.

"Fujiko..." he growled in protest. Was she just trying to humiliate him? By making sure he was the only one who got to enjoy the experience? To make him feel submissive or something? Because if so, she had a lot to learn about Koichi Zenigata... starting with how even a man's pride could be swallowed in the face of those luxurious breasts - no wait, self control.

"No!" she slapped his face, much to his surprise. "Be good or I'll tie you up!"

This was surreal.

"What do you _want_?" he asked, halfway frustrated.

"Get hard again!" she insisted and bounced in his lap.

So surreal. "It's not that easy!" he objected, trying to get her to see reason. It was no good though, she attacked again, seizing his neck and chest with kisses and bites, nails sliding over his stomach and downwards. For a moment he mistakenly thought that she had seen reason, or at least physiology, and was going to start fingering herself off in yet another show for his personal viewing, but no such luck. Her warm fingers, too nimble from years of picking locks and pockets, coasted over his groin, applying pressure to his limp dick to get the blood flowing there again.

Evil woman.

"Fujiko..." he gasped, begging all over again as he rocked painfully forward into her hand, muscles contracting in places where they ached and throbbed. Fuck. Death by sex.

"_Yes_," she hissed happily into his ear, all too proud of herself for it. She rocked up over her hand, getting him harder adding just a little more pain, and then slid down around him.

He arched back against the chair with a howl. Pleasure, pain, he didn't know which was which anymore, he didn't even know if he cared. He moved his recently freed hands to cup her ass and squeeze it around him. She didn't throw her head back with a squeal this time, that wasn't the art show she was putting on, but her dark eyes glinted flintily and she leaned her chest up closer to his face. She wasn't going to admit she liked it. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of her reaction, but that was fine, Zenigata knew the truth.

"Good god Koichi," she whispered, out of breath into his ear. The only sign out of her coy mischievous smiles that she was actually enjoying herself this time. Some sort of punishment for not believing her lies the first time. Although that was another amusing thing, since really, who did she think she was punishing other than herself? Well, maybe some of his pride wanted to satisfy her as a woman, but he was smart enough to know that Fujiko would only let him if and when she decided to allow it.

"Like that, huh?" he grunted, holding her close and pushing her up with a nudge to her ass. She was sensitive there. A side effect from having to guard it so closely.

"Mm," she moaned in his ear in protest and dragged her nails lightly down his chest again, sharply twisting over a nipple to try to get another yelp out of him. He refused to give in this time beyond a small grunt that could have been for any other reason, like the way he was using his knees to help her ride up against him more. She was wet inside though, so she could pretend not to like it all she wanted, but Zenigata could tell better, just like last time in reverse.

"Koichi," she mumbled hazily in singsong in his ear, almost too quiet even then for him to properly hear her, "I'm going to make you hurt." The way she promised it was like an angel promising the way to paradise.

"Yeah? Why's that?" he grunted, caressing her thighs and trying to slide his hands forward. She stopped him though, put his hands back on her ass, much to his amusement all over again. If that wasn't proof she liked it, not much was, but fine, he could oblige her that much too.

She didn't give him an answer, just growled like an angry cat and attacked his collarbone with harder bites, her nails roamed over the muscular expanse of his back and shoulders, exploring at first and then digging in hard to make him gasp again. "Be a good Inspector and beg for me, _won't you?_" she suggested in his ear with another sharp bite, sucking and tugging on the lobe as though she was going to take it completely off.

"I don't beg," he insisted, already worried about how she'd take that.

Dangerously. She took it dangerously. Her eyes flashed angrily, like a thunderstorm's first warning lightning strike, and her nails went right down under her legs to seize his sensitive areas in a tight grip hard. "FUCK FUJIKO!" Koichi roared, wondering if a little begging wouldn't go a long way. She smiled a little smugly, still bouncing against his chest, and ducked the rest of her expression behind her hair. Or maybe she was just trying to hide how out of breath she was from all her ministrations. As if she even could... as if it even mattered.

"More like that," she pleaded in his ear, riding his waist hard.

He wanted to bite something. He was losing his mind. He was losing his grip on sanity and everything in between. "I'm going to die," he gasped raggedly, leaning back, and just letting his hips fuck her like they had a mind of their own.

She laughed.

Genuinely laughed.

Zenigata was never going to understand the woman.

He could feel her tightening around him, slowing down and taking him deeper. Maybe she hadn't meant to come, had just meant to torture him with sex (was that a torture?), but whatever her intentions, Fujiko Mine was only human too. Or at least if she was a succubus, she was one physically getting something out of the whole exchange. Not that she would let him see it. She bit her bottom lip slightly as it tried to open against her will to pant for more air, and she calmly rode out her own orgasm, as if the Inspector wouldn't even notice the way her muscles squeezed him, urging him to come inside her all over again, or the way she got extra wet and not from her own saliva from earlier. _Hah._

Fujiko refused to even make a sound this time. If the other time had been filled with high pitched overly dramatic squeals and no orgasm from the con artist, this time was the direct opposite. Zenigata stubbornly wanted to stroke her thighs in pleasurable encouragement, so he seized the opportunity of her distraction to get away with just that, rewarded with the sweet sounds of her protesting moans.

"Bad," she pouted over her own bit lip.

Zenigata just snorted quietly and grumbled in her ear, "You're the last person to lecture me on that."

This time he grabbed her wrist before the nails could slash down low again. His eyes almost danced in amusement as they met with hers, "See?" He pulled her into a hard kiss, momentarily distracting her from more thoughts of violence, even if she did turn even that act into something of a battle, biting and squirming against him. She really refused to stay still and have sex like a normal woman didn't she?

"Hurt more," she growled in his ear, dragging her nails down the side of his neck and pinching the earlobe between her thumb. He nearly sighed. He was exhausted. He shouldn't even be fucking so soon after that blowjob and he still didn't know what she was after.

"Fujiko..." he protested quietly.

"No," she glared at him and bit his earlobe hard, tugging on it like a dog with a chew toy. "Beg more and harder!" she twisted a nipple again. He braced himself for it though and stared back at her evenly. "Please?" she begged cutely, and he melted in spite of himself. Demon woman.

Well whatever, if all she wanted was him to act pained, he didn't have to much act that at this point. Still, he didn't want to give in quite so easily. "We'll see," he grunted, prompting another raking with her sharp nails. Jeez, he was going to come out of this looking like he lost a fight with a raccoon.

"No!" more bites, to his collarbone, and one to his shoulder that he swore could have drawn blood. "Do it!"

Seriously surreal. And a contrast to the other time yet again where every word out of her lips had been "yes," and all squeals of mock delight, even though this time it was _her_ prompting everything. Fujiko Mine was officially giving him a headache. Somewhere before or after she gave him head. Or both.

"Ow," Zenigata deadpanned sarcastically.

She slapped him hard across the face again. Shit, that actually hurt. They stubbornly glared into each other's eyes all over again until Fujiko grabbed both of his ears in her hands, tugging him like they were reigns on a horse, and riding him just as hard. Maybe even harder. Well, she made her point well enough. He wasn't going to make it easy for her, but there wasn't much he could do to make it difficult for her either at this point. Maybe he should just be glad she hadn't decided to slap him in the face with his own handcuffs - no, those she used to strap his wrists to his armchair.

"You're really going to-" a gasp, he was definitely out of air and she wasn't letting up on him for a second. What did she think he was, some kind of machine? Damn that woman! "Kidnap an officer... in his own... office?" He was panting, definitely, and amused all over again, how could he not be? He bit at her chest since it was still in range, and she didn't push him away from it either.

"Do you really want to get free?" she stuck her tongue out at him and then into his ear.

No, no he couldn't say he did want to get free. Bruises or not.

Crazy woman.

"You're crazy," he growled, nibbling her bare shoulders and twisting his fingers to just barely brush over her hips in spite of the cuffs. She gasped in surprise at the touch, riding up high on him again, and it was definitely worth it just for that.

"No!" she punched him in the head again and he blinked, seeing stars, "My way or not at all!" another growl and Zenigata felt like he was going to melt from the juxtaposition of cuteness against the rage. Truly, there was something wrong with one of them. Both of them, probably.

Was it a game? This whole act? A scene of fightsex? Whatever she wanted...

"And what is my way?" he asked, straining against his own cuffs, before just leaning back, kicking his feet up onto his desk. Oh. It'd be one _hell_ of a sight for anyone to walk in on. Their clothes scattered on the floor, both of them bare naked, fucking in his desk chair with the Inspector handcuffed to his armchair, and Fujiko Mine tugging on his ears and hair to try to force him into more submission and begging.

"It doesn't matter," she grinned wickedly, "Because you shan't have it!"

She won, Zenigata decided. He didn't know _what_ she won, what she wanted, or what she got out of this violent aggressive sex, other than that itself, but he was sure it was something. And no matter what it was, she could have it. She couldn't get off him easily with the chair and his legs stretched like this, but given the way she was bouncing those breasts near his face and holding his waist in a vicegrip of death, Zenigata didn't think escape was on her mind.

The only way he could defeat her at this point would be to close his eyes and _try_ to feign indifference, and like fuck that was going to work. In fact, Zenigata rather suspected that if he even tried, he'd probably just die that much quicker. "You win," he panted, rocking with her rhythm, succumbing into enjoying it.

"I always do," she purred triumphantly, a low dark moan, rich like honey and tea sweets.

He couldn't think of much to say to that, just let her get more groans of pleasure and pain out of him as she dextrously sat up like a cowgirl on a bronco and then leaned back to claw up his thighs. Gods, she was evil.

He wanted to ask if she was going to put on another show, like last time, like earlier, but if he did ask, then he knew she would refuse just to stubbornly avoid giving him the satisfaction. "Less in shape at that girls' school?" he clenched his teeth, trying not to pant so much. He had to prove that the police kept him physically sharp at least.

Brown eyes glinted darkly again as Fujiko eyed him, her thoughts hidden. She probably saw through that clumsy attempt, but her own ego was fighting with her on whether to show off or not. If she showed off, he knew she'd enjoy it, but apparently the game was to get the Inspector not to enjoy it as much. Did she know how much he'd enjoyed that first show? He hadn't exactly hidden it, just mocked her for its fruitlessness.

She bent her head and tossed her hair back hard, thrusting her chest forward again. "Oh?" She wasn't going to make her cries of enjoyment, or much of any sounds it would seem, but at least she was still putting on a show for him.

"Mm-hm," he feigned indifference, even as they sped up their intercourse, "I guess it's all right there." He really needed air. Pretending he wasn't run ragged was easily the hardest thing he could ever remember doing just then. "No men to look your best for." It was another clumsy attempt to rile her up, to figure out what prompted all of this mess in the first place, but it wasn't enough to completely work either. Fujiko's deep brown eyes sparked with her own amusement as she made a big show of leaning forward to pin Koichi's shoulders to the back of the chair.

"No one said I don't want women to appreciate my body too, Inspector," she whispered clippingly into an ear again.

If she thought that was going to tantalize him, she needed to think again. She was trying too hard. If Fujiko could be satisfied with pleasing women, she wouldn't certainly be here now. Zenigata smirked as he gave Fujiko a rougher kiss, leaning back to let her bite and suck over his throat and Adam's Apple, causing rumbles of pleasure and pain to echo out of him.

"Then why are you here?" he teased her again, bracing his face for another hard slap or punch. Instead, she blinked in surprise. Was she really taken aback? Acting again? She grinned a little ruefully, and shook her head, curling up against Zenigata's chest, her toes curled and braced against the chair's leather. "Too smart," she mumbled. Acting, definitely. She no more thought Zenigata smart than she fucked women. She lifted her head up, a proud Queen in all her haughty glory - if she wasn't still twisted with her of her breasts pushed up against his chest and her legs wrapped around his own milking him for all he was worth. "Shall I pretend it's because-" she shivered, took a deep breath and changed her tone of voice midsentence to something simpering and pathetic. "I need a big strong man to help me?" she walked a pair of fingers up his chest.

Zenigata bit his cheek and chuckled darkly even with that. "Fujiko," he growled poignantly. "You have me cuffed to my chair." How much did he even need to point out to show how ludicrous that claim was? She really must have thought him an idiot.

She chuckled quietly, darkly musing something over to herself, something hidden she wouldn't share, of course. Fujiko Mine was a woman of many secrets, and even if they wouldn't hurt her, she played her cards close to her chest out of habit. Or maybe out of paranoia. She was running out of breath herself though, Zenigata was pleased to observe. He gave her the more time she wanted, even though his wrists itched against his cuffs, wanting to hold her in place, wanting to help her find what she was looking for, or at least some sort of physical pleasure she was denying she could even want.

Fujiko arched her back again, wrapped herself around Zenigata more intimately and more warmly than he ever could have expected. "Do you really want to know, Koichi?" she whispered in his ear succulently. He was going to die of cuteness all over again. And then from sex. And then from her damn nails. Damn. And she was back to Koichi was it? She needed to make up her mind, but he had a nasty feeling that she was purposely switching back and forth just to mess with his head. Damn evil woman.

For a moment he wondered if he said yes she would refuse to tell him, just to spite him. To spite herself, and anything else for that matter. Spiteful woman. If he said no, however, he was equally sure she'd refuse to tell him. There was never any winning with this woman. So Zenigata did the only thing he could think of, and just grunted in reply.

She tugged his head closer to hers, lacing razor sharp nails through his hair and over his neck. "I just wanted something rough for fun. And no one else would do," she whispered so quietly in his ear he wondered if he'd imagined it.

Besides, it had to be a lie.

But his heart raced in spite of himself. In spite of everything they'd done so far, before, and tonight, and all the rest. There was just something about Fujiko Mine that wouldn't be denied by any force on Earth. At least Zenigata wasn't about to start blushing like a schoolboy or something dumb. No one else would do, huh? It was dumb. It shouldn't be flattering. It was like she was saying there was no one else she wanted to see in pain as much as him - and yet that was flattering... in a weird twisted sort of way. But it was Fujiko, no other way would even suit her.

"Your way or not at all, huh?" he grunted quietly, roughly kissing her cheeks and lips.

Her eyes were bright and she didn't answer immediately, but she finally settled for a grin and a nod, switching back into enjoying herself, as easily as if he'd flipped a lightswitch up. "Uh-huh," she nodded, bouncing on top of him again.

"I'm going to die," he groaned all over again since that seemed to make her happy every time he'd said it.

Psychotic woman.

"Yes, you are. Inspector," she purred, molesting his chest and riding him harder and faster. "But only when I decide so."

So much doomed.

She left with even less of a trace than the way she entered, but Zenigata was hardly surprised about that. It was a rare kind of criminal who could waltz into a police station like they owned the place and forget feeling nervous, decided to instead act like they _did_ own the place. Crazy woman. He was blessedly, _dressed_ at least, when another officer entered his office and took note of his messed up hair he was trying to straighten before getting a cigarette.

The fellow policeman laughed and shook his head in amazement. "Again?" Still more head shakes. "Don't let Oscar catch you like that."

Zenigata snorted derisively. As if he would let the kid see his own personal corruption like this. The kid didn't even like it when Zenigata "lowered" himself to _work_ with Fujiko. Or Pig-Woman as Oscar took to calling her when he thought Zenigata didn't notice. The Inspector lit up a cigarette quietly and waited patiently for the officer to explain his presence.

"Some guys have all the luck," the officer chuckled as he brought forward the manila envelope carrying case details and put it on the Inspector's desk. Zenigata arched an eyebrow at the comment. He was almost tempted to tell the man the truth of the situation... but yeah right. Never mind, he could do without losing any sense of credibility left. Let them believe whatever the hell they wanted. Maybe that was what Fujiko was really after, and maybe it wasn't. With that woman, who could say?


	2. 2: Hurt, Comfort, and the KGB

Inspector Koichi Zenigata had no idea what time of night or day it was. He was startled out of sleep by someone breaking into his hotel room. "Lupin!" he growled to himself, reaching for enough pairs of handcuffs to arrest the thief this time for sure. Of course, Lupin usually wasn't so reckless as to break into the very place Zenigata was staying, but who else could it possibly be? Only Lupin was brazen enough to break into an ICPO's hotel room, and probably try to leave a calling card to boot.

Zenigata was about to fling a pair of cuffs on a chain when he noticed the telltale posture of the only woman to constantly invade his personal space like this. Even his ex-wife didn't bother seeking him out, and his daughter at least always called.

Fujiko Mine. Would-be lover of Lupin III if she ever let him get close enough without deciding to rob him blind of his riches first instead. Why she spent time around an Interpol officer who barely made enough to continue to chase Arsene Lupin III across the world was a mystery he had yet to solve.

Her broad brown eyes were downcast, hidden under matching brown hair that could have been dyed or a wig for all he knew, and an army cap he'd thought she long since discarded or replaced for a red beret in France. She didn't like anyone to know of her army connections, and given how much work she'd done to conceal them, he was surprised she was wearing that hat now. Then again, last he'd heard, she was working undercover with _one_ of the armies in Afghanistan. Rumors circulated that she was with the Russians, but surely even Fujiko wouldn't be that stupid.

Then again, she'd just broken into his hotel room, so all bets were off about her sense of recklessness.

"Pops," she mumbled softly as he switched out the handcuffs for his pistol. Not that he'd actually shoot her, but where Fujiko came from, trouble was bound to follow. Usually that trouble fell on Lupin's head so Zenigata always approved, but this time, it seemed she'd chosen to drop it on his doorstep welcome mat.

"Fujiko," he returned cautiously.

What was her game? Who was she hiding from? Where was she running from? How had she found him? And why? Was her presence here an indicator that Lupin was around, or did it mean he was long gone?

_Why was she here?_

Fujiko didn't take off her hat, didn't move from where she was, she didn't do a thing. She looked like she was on the verge of collapsing. For a moment, Zenigata wondered if she wasn't actually Fujiko, but a robot or bomb made up to look like the woman. It seemed like the kind of trick Lupin would pull. Or one of his enemies would try on him. Besides she'd called him "Pops" and Fujiko only did that in the company of Lupin's gang. And even then, not always. It was usually too affectionate for her. And since Fujiko was the only one to really know Zenigata intimately, she was usually guarded about any emotions, if nothing else.

Zenigata raised the gun just in case trouble decided to literally follow Fujiko through the door - or in case she displayed signs of exploding like a bomb, but neither happened. Instead Fujiko raised her eyes to look at him, and this time it was Zenigata who felt ready to collapse, weak at the knees. He'd seen Fujiko go through shit no woman, _no man_, should have been capable of, he'd seen her endure torture and shrug it off with a kind of hardiness no one else had. He'd seen her fake seventeen kinds of pleasure or pain, and seen her feign more emotions than she could even conceal. Yet, he'd never seen her look so scared in all his life. Not even back during her days as an assassin with Poon, or when the mafia family ordered Poon to kill her.

There was a lump in his throat as he moved to put the Colt .45 into his pocket, someplace Fujiko could easily discern it, and take it if she wanted to. He knew that it was the kind of reassurance she needed just then. He moved to join her side, reflexively, even if that was the kind of emotional gesture she'd usually refuse rather violently. She was soaking wet and trembling, either with fright she didn't even have to fake or with cold, but either way, Zenigata wrapped his jacket around her shoulders and led her to the couch.

"What happened?" he asked as gently as he could.

She shook her head softly, clung to the jacket gratefully with one hand, and Zenigata was glad all over again that they were sitting down because her gesture, her willingness to show that kind of weakness made _him_ feel weak in the knees. Whatever it was had to be bad. Really bad. Earthshattering bad and then some. Still, she wouldn't say yet. Or couldn't say. Maybe her voice wasn't working.

"Can I have something to drink?" she asked wearily, biting her trembling bottom lip and curling into herself more, hiding in the coat as if it would protect her from whatever had her scared.

"Yeah, of course," Zenigata instantly got up and went to the kitchen area. It wasn't much, and he couldn't afford a single thing from that mini-fridge or bar, so hopefully the glass of water he was getting her would do. As it was, anyone else might have missed her slip of language, but Zenigata didn't. Her Japanese manners were rusty. She was plenty rude when she wanted to be, deliberately offensive, because gods knew Fujiko liked to push buttons, Zenigata's perhaps most of all, but she knew _how_ to be polite. She knew the right words and tenses, and the only times she slipped up if it wasn't on purpose were a definite indication of trouble.

It could be that she was just too emotionally shocked, but Zenigata doubted it. No, even as scared as he'd never seen her before, Fujiko was pretty hard to rattle like that. And she was too careful to make a mistake. She had to be legitimately rusty. Probably because it had been too long since she'd used her Japanese. He filled her a glass of water and checked the fridge hoping there was something serviceable in there. Just orange juice, but he poured a glass of that too and brought it back with coasters.

"Water, or if you're worried about the water here, there's juice," he offered her, nudging it close enough to her. "Or I can put on a pot of tea." As soon as he remembered where he put the teabags. She was usually too snobby for teabags, from what he remembered, not out of an actual preference he personally suspected, but just because she always wanted to seem high class and make men work extra hard to appeal to her expensive tastes.

"Water's fine," she smiled hesitantly and sipped it cautiously.

He avoided snorting at her telltale paranoia. She was always skittish except when she _should_ be. But if she was still skittish of something as simple as water, it could be a good sign. He'd have to keep watching to see.

"Thank you," she added belatedly after a few sips and when she set the cup down.

"It's nothing," he shrugged. Really, offering water was the mildest thing about this entire situation, starting with the fact that a famous ex-assassin had broken into his hotel room and still hadn't explained herself on why.

She fidgeted with herself for a moment, looking like a tiny little girl caught in trouble with the Principal. He remembered this look from when she was in college, actually. Before either of them had even heard of Lupin III. Back when she was studying criminology and if she hadn't been roped into the absolute wrong side of the law, she could have become one of the best. Better than him even. But instead she used her looks like that to get out of trouble with the dean and laughed at pranks, slowly allowing herself to get seduced by the "glamor" of the yakuza and who knew what else.

"Fujiko," he started as a reminder that it was him. Her bullshit innocent acts wouldn't work on him, and more than that, they were pretty much unnecessary. If Zenigata was going to help her, it wasn't because she conned him into it - or if she did, it was because he was stupid enough to believe she really needed him and that it was the right thing.

She curled up against his side, snuggled closer, making his heart skip a beat nervously, and then she draped her chest and arms over his lap. "It was awful," she mumbled quietly, like a broken child.

Zenigata focused on breathing deeply, and slowly wrapped a tough hug around her shoulders. He didn't know what else to do. Or say.

What was? Who was she running from?

At least it was still a start.

He wanted to pet her hair, but he knew she'd hate him for it, so he sighed and leaned against the armrest of the couch, before leaning over her to grab the remote control and hand it to her. If whatever "it" was, was big enough news maybe she could find the right channel and let that help her along with getting some of the words out. "Want TV?" he prompted softly.

"Mmn..." she mumbled, hesitantly took the remote, looking all over again like a small child, too unsure of herself to possibly be the same Fujiko Mine he was used to. "Hai..." she mumbled again, and pushed the power button to turn it on and flipped to some animal documentary.

Zenigata almost twitched. What was she playing at? Did what she was running from even have anything to do with animals? Or with Africa? Or gazelle?

Probably not. Fujiko just liked animals and probably found them soothing just now.

He sighed, rubbed his eyes, and discreetly checked his watch, well above her shoulders. Three in the morning. Wonderful. And he had a nine am plane to... Timbuktu? Israel? Fuck if he remembered right now. He was exhausted. He stifled a yawn, gently rubbed Fujiko's tense shoulders in a rough hand and closed his eyes, leaning into his arm on the side of the couch. He wasn't going to fall asleep. That was too dangerous at this point, with possibly unknown assailants on their way already, but with Fujiko right there, that was a good way to wake up in a crate bound for Antarctica if she so decided.

Speaking of Fujiko's presence, she snuggled into Zenigata's lap, and if he wasn't still so damned suspicious and constantly reminding himself of how this was Fujiko Mine and not to be taken lightly, he might have found that almost adorable. Might have. Almost.

"Thank you," she mumbled again softly and slowly unwound her arms to hug his waist.

Fuck it, he was sold. Whatever she needed, he'd help her.

"Don't thank me yet," he gently stroked the top of her head with the top of his knuckles so she wouldn't get as mad at him for it.

She let out a deep sigh, and maybe a tiny fraction of all the tension she was holding inside, but she curled back up into his jacket and bit her bottom lip again. "H-hai..." she agreed nervously, and Zenigata almost went for his gun as they both glanced at the front door. Nothing was there, of course, but her nerves were catching. "I'm in trouble," she mumbled quietly. Well, that much was obvious, he wanted to tell her. "With Russia," she whispered, as if the entire hotel room was wiretapped. Hell, maybe it was. With Russia, all bets were off.

Zenigata held her shoulders a little tighter, almost for his own sake. "KGB?" he asked, proud of himself for keeping his voice so rock steady.

The KGB were enough to make _anyone's_ blood run cold, and only Fujiko could do something stupid enough to get the entire organization hot on her tail. She was probably carrying state secrets to Stalin's long-lost something or other. Or worse. Something that would unravel the whole world, and she'd decided to come running to him for help. He wasn't sure how to thank her for that exactly.

Fujiko nodded numbly, her lips red and puckered in off places. She must have chewed off half of her lipstick by now, and the remaining color was from the constant biting and out of contrast with how pale the rest of her was. There probably hadn't been much sun in Russia. Or if she was in Afghanistan like the rumors said, then she must have been covered up pretty damn thoroughly.

Another sigh escaped Zenigata. He didn't know if it was exhaustion, weariness, or flat out concern. Was she kidding him? He wished. That would have been an elaborate hoax, but Fujiko's sense of humor was never that good. "I won't let them take you," he bent down to whisper in her ear.

She smiled up at him weakly, gratefully, but weakly all the same. They both knew there wasn't a single thing Koichi Zenigata could do to stop them if they so decided. He would have had a hard enough time protecting her from a single mafia family if Fujiko alone couldn't handle them, but the Russian KGB? Yeah right. He didn't stand a snowball's chance in hell. But he'd make it hard for them. He could buy her a few minutes at least. Even if it meant risking his career. Hell, his life.

"Don't go," she mumbled and buried her head into clinging to his lap more.

"I won't," he promised and stroked her hair with his knuckles again, as soothingly as he could.

She clung to him a little longer, slowly letting some of the tension in her shoulders ebb out the longer the room was uninterrupted except by animal documentaries. She finished her glass of water, tried a sip of the orange juice and made a face of disgust at it for his show.

"Sorry," he snorted in amusement. It's not like he had any idea how old it was anyway. Much less how refined or not. "Want that tea after all?"

Shaking her head, she mumbled something incomprehensibly and stubbornly grabbed his knees between her elbows instead, as if the act of fetching tea might cause him to disappear. Surely she couldn't have lost Lupin? No... it had to be someone else though. Maybe another ex-partner. Or someone she'd been trying to protect. Fujiko was tough as bullets, but even she couldn't always hide how much it shook her up emotionally to lose people. That's why she kept everyone so distant when she could. Lupin was just someone she had trouble getting rid of the same way as the others. Maybe because he always survived. Like a cockroach.

"Okay, no tea," Zenigata agreed and gently squeezed her shoulder.

"Mm," she mumbled and buried her face into his jacket and lap again. She was like a wounded kitten he'd rescued from a rain gutter, jeez.

She was silent again for quite some time, not enough for the program to switch, but with the tension of waiting for the KGB to infiltrate at any second, each minute seemed to drag on for days.

"I hurt them," she finally said fiercely, peeking up at him so that all he could see were her eyes and the bridge of her nose. She'd taken the hat off, though he couldn't remember when now.

He wasn't sure what to say to that. Good for you, Fujiko? Well, it was obviously not so good since they were after her now. And yet...

"How?"

That was a good question actually. One of the strongest secret police in the world did not get "hurt" easily.

She hid back behind his coat again. Either she wasn't going to tell him because she was still too scared to, or because she didn't want him to get in as much trouble as she already was herself. She was a strange woman. She could be a cold-hearted bitch sometimes, and yet other times, times like this...

"They can't have it anymore," she whispered, facing away from Zenigata, towards the tv. Her voice sounded numb. Like it had frozen icicles outside from the rain. He wanted to ask her have what, but that was dangerous. It could be as big as a type of oil bomb, or something to do with space and rockets. Add in Fujiko Mine and literally it could be even stranger than any of that. She was clutching something tightly in a hand, something other than the remote control, that was. At first, Zenigata was going to leave her to it, but he decided to see if he could get it away from her, just to see if she'd let him.

To his surprise, she did, letting go enough to reveal a golden heart locket. He popped the picture open, wondering if it was some kind of clue, but the picture of the little girl and male soldier in army fatigues inside didn't look like anyone Zenigata could recognize. Whatever their importance, it was probably only significant to Fujiko. Someone she'd lost maybe. Or someone she was running from. Zenigata closed the locket and moved to put it over her neck, but Fujiko tucked it away somewhere invisible in her clothes instead.

She sat up and looked into Zenigata's eyes for another moment that stretched out forever. Her hair was highlighted with a hazy blue glow from the tv she blocked off now, and while she didn't look nearly so scared anymore, she hardly looked like her usual self either. Drier, but she didn't have any makeup on - of course Zenigata preferred her this way, the _real_ Fujiko... or as real as she got, but it wasn't his place to ever say so either. Still, her eyes carried a haunted look, the kind of look that Zenigata had seen on plenty of good old soldiers and officers before they were put into a quieter retirement under "PTSD" or "battle fatigue." On Fujiko it looked ghostly.

Her eyes were as big as ever, but they weren't as bright as he was used to. Usually they were so fierce that he would have said between Zantetsuken or her eyes, her eyes were the ones that must have come from a meteorite because they reflected all the stars. Tonight it was like the moon was gone and even supernovas didn't shine enough to reflect in them. They were dark, and it scared him, if he was completely honest about it.

She moved his jacket carefully aside, leaned her slender arms over his shoulders and leaned in close to whisper into his ear. "They want my memories, Koichi. They want to make the world theirs, but they can't have it. It's mine." His breath was stuck in his throat. Whether she meant that the KGB couldn't have her memories, the world, or both because they were hers, Zenigata didn't doubt it. He didn't say anything, not that he even had the breath to, he just braced his hands around her tiny frame and quietly wished for a cigarette. He could use one, just then.

She leaned up and gently rubbed her nose against his own, and Zenigata froze all movements even more. The tv was rolling into commercials, maybe paid programming of some kind, and he had no idea what Fujiko was looking for. Again. He was too scared to give her an eskimo kiss back though, as cute as that was. He wasn't even sure if it was accidental, or why she'd done it, so anything he did could be taken as a sign he didn't want to give her.

Dark brown eyes closed as Fujiko leaned forward to press a tentative kiss to his lips.

His breath returned just like that, as his heart started beating nervously. He couldn't kiss her back though, not like this, not when she was in such a fragile state. "Fujiko..." he closed his eyes and mumbled quietly in a warning tone.

"Don't," she placed a single finger over his lips as a command, as his eyes opened again to try to read her face, her movements, _anything._ "Inspector," she took a deep breath, maybe to reassure herself, maybe just so he'd notice it. She leaned forward again, tilted her head to the side and whispered into his ear before kissing it, "It's for me."

He let out a nervous breath of air. "You don't have to..." he told her quietly, still holding her carefully in his hands. He couldn't forget how fragile she'd been only moments earlier. How fragile she_ still_ was, in many ways.

She was always falling in the worst kind of people in the world. Poon, Lupin, yakuza, assassin, KGB, drug dealers, cultists, rebel leaders, warlords, hell, Lupin was one of the better ones all told. At least he was just a thief. And Zenigata didn't even want to think about how most of those men treated her. Like a piece of meat if she let him. And worse if she didn't. At minimum, she had to know he wasn't like those other guys. He wasn't protecting her for her sex appeal, or because she was some object, or some status symbol. Or even because she was, _unfortunately,_ all too good at what she did.

No, Zenigata was just protecting her because she was Fujiko Mine, and she'd come to him. That was it. He didn't need another reason.

"Koichi," she whispered in his ear again, and his heart jumped halfway up his throat. She was manipulating him, probably. But it wasn't necessary, and he wouldn't even mind especially, it was just the principle of the thing. But the way she said his name like that... It wasn't fair. He closed his eyes, he didn't even want to think about how long it'd been since _anyone_ said his name like that. Though really, no could the same way Fujiko Mine did. "I want to," she whispered more insistently.

The lump in his throat only threatened to grow at that. He couldn't move his hands, couldn't look away either. "Ko-i-chi," she whispered again, accentuating each syllable individually. He gulped, his adam's apple jumping with the growing nervous sensation.

She settled his actions for him by kissing him again, holding his head close, parting her lips just a little so that her breath coasted over his own lips. He was painfully aware that he probably tasted like cheap ramen and even cheaper beer and cigarettes, but she didn't seem to mind, just kissed him deeper and slowly worked her warm hands under his shirt. His heart was definitely stuck somewhere in his throat, he was sure of it, and he didn't seem to remember what to do with his hands.

She took the matter out of his hands though, figuratively speaking, by taking his silence for consent and helping him get out of his clothes. He slowly remembered he should help her too, but he settled instead for simply holding her slim shoulders and trying to keep her warm in his hands. It wasn't that cold in his hotel room, but she was still trembling, either from her encounter with the rain, or out of fear of the Russians, he couldn't have said either way. She slipped out of her white shirt, pushed his own off his shoulders and leaned up to tenderly kiss him and soak in his close presence.

Their last encounter had been rough, violent, and nearly bloody, and this was almost the opposite. "Frail" wasn't often a word used to describe Fujiko Mine, if ever, but fragile was the only word that came to mind for Zenigata just then. She was paler than usual, she clearly hadn't been spending her time in the tropics or Greece the way she professed to prefer, and it made her look almost sheltered. More like a princess or refined noblewoman than the body-guard sometimes governess who watched over them.

Taking a deep breath to steady his own nerves, Zenigata tenderly kissed her back, doing his best to convey his own feelings of protective affection for her. Their past history, a bewildering sort of trust they both shared separate from Lupin, sometimes because of him, sometimes how they both collaborated together to snare Lupin. A bewildering sort of alliance that was just them against the tide of the worst scum of the world. He didn't think that kind of thing could be conveyed in a kiss, but Fujiko seemed to pick up on it somehow. "K-Koichi..." she whispered in his ear again, stammering slightly, and pulling him closer to her.

He didn't have any words for her, and he knew full well anything he did say was bound to ruin the moment, so he didn't speak. He let her take the lead, because he knew she needed that most right now. The control over something in her life, however small and insignificant it seemed to anyone else. He was never going to get used to her tender kisses, soft, plaintive, and echoed with those big dark eyes that were looking to him for something. He didn't know what she was looking for, and he didn't know whether to hate himself for wanting to give it to her, or to hate himself for not giving it to her fast enough.

Her hands were all soft and delicately light touches this time. No raking dark red trails into his flesh or trying to elicit anything out of him. She was just touching him because he was there, and he gave her back in return, softly holding her close, gently keeping her safe and warm. Her soft brown hair was still a little frizzy on the edges from the damp weather and this time when he tucked it behind her ears, she leaned her chin into his hands.

It wasn't love by any stretch of the word. For neither of them really. He cared for her, sure, but he wasn't deluded enough to forget who they both were. He was an Interpol Inspector, and even if she survived on the run with the KGB, she wasn't going to stay with him long enough to get in trouble that he'd have to arrest her for. No, it was just Fujiko, but for tonight, that was all right. She certainly wasn't looking for love or forever, or even anything more than Zenigata could give her. Just comfort, and that was easy enough, even for a man like him, to give.

She stretched him out on the couch, moved a pillow behind his head and dextrously removed his pants before slipping out of her own. His breath caught in his throat all over again just watching her. He always admired her body, how could anyone not? It was her number one weapon, and her most important asset after her brain, so she took special care of it and it showed. Her body was flawless. Muscularly toned like the martial artist she was - one of the only people in the world Koichi knew could hold her own against him in judo, and if she wasn't always such an outlaw, she could have easily won an Olympic medal for Japan.

Tugging his coat around her like a cloak, much to his amusement, Fujiko climbed on top of him, using his jacket like a blanket. "What, no show this time?" he asked before softly kissing her ruby lips, lit by the glow of the tv they'd left on.

She didn't give him an answer straight away, just sucked softly on his earlobe, kissed a sweet path down his neck and then returned to give him more soft gentle kisses on the lips. It was a strange time to suddenly get shy, he felt, but then again, with Fujiko was any timing really ever going to be anything but strange? On the run from the KGB might as well be as good a time as any to start hiding under coats, and it was certainly just as adorable as before. She slipped the jacket back from her shoulders in order to reveal the pale slender arms and expose more of her arguably best physical feature: her breasts.

Zenigata wasted no time in kissing a small, gentle path down the side of her neck and inbetween the two mountainous breasts. Like Mount Fuji itself, her beauty that lent Fujiko her name. She breathed in deeply, arched her back so she could decide which parts of her body were within range of his mouth to kiss, and gently she slid her toes over his bare legs. He sucked in another deep breath for his own nerves and slipped his hands under the jacket to brace over her soft ass, cupping the cheeks and nudging her closer to him.

"Koichi," she mumbled again, in pleasure, as her toes curled against his legs and the surface of the couch.

He moved his large hands up her spine and helped cover her back up with his jacket. If she wanted to hide then it was his place to oblige her. He rested the arms of it over her shoulders and gently massaged the back of her neck where she was tense like a giant feline. His hand traversed further up until it was caught into the wavy brown hair. Her hair wasn't damp anymore, but it still held lingering traces of the cold rain and her army hat.

What was more noticeable in her scent was the lack of Chanel Number 5 she wore specifically to drive certain army men and Lupin insane. Zenigata had never liked it much himself. It was just another cover, another disguise she used, something she added to seem different than who she really was, just like everything else. Tonight she smelled like herself though. Clean, brusque, nude in more ways than one.

Her kisses were like berries and rich wine, and sharp contrast to what he'd had himself earlier. He wished that they'd had a real night to enjoy this under different circumstances; sometime when they weren't waiting for the KGB to break down the door and when they might not even live to see the dawn. Sometime when she wasn't just scared and clinging to him like a life raft, but then again, if it weren't for those circumstances, they wouldn't be doing this now, and Zenigata held no romantic illusions about that.

She always had to be on top, he noticed idly, even as half-distracted by her kisses, soft touches and warm scent invading his senses as he was. Didn't most women prefer to be on bottom? He'd heard somewhere that that was only a Japanese woman thing, but Fujiko never did anything the way someone might expect. He was pretty sure she delighted in being as purposely contrary as possible. Or maybe that was one of her many ways of keeping people at an arm's length. An excuse for when they were turned off by her insane behaviors so she could blame it on them instead of her own fears of letting them get too close.

It was too much thinking for the night, especially a night like this. Zenigata shut up his own thoughts with more kisses, and moved his hands over her sides, carressing her breasts and down over her hips. "Ohhh..." she moaned softly in pleasure and rolled up against him. He rested his hands back on her ass again and helped her straddle him, as inclined to stay tangled with his legs as she seemed to be.

It was too gentle and soft for what he associated with Fujiko when she slid herself over his hardened cock. Even when she wasn't extra violent or aggressive, she was always fierce, loud, abrasive. Everything a demure Japanese housewife should _not_ be. Which was why Fujiko wasn't anything of the sort. She wasn't even yakuza housewife material, wasn't that why Poon's mafia had tried to get rid of her? Normally women like Fujiko set Zenigata's teeth on edge, but that was probably because they reminded him all too much of Fujiko without being the real thing.

Not that he didn't appreciate her sudden tenderness, but it almost made him nervous than her violence. When she was violent, at least she was in control. Now her fears were spreading even to him, and the softer she was, the more he wanted to protect her, even if she didn't let him. He gently placed kisses to her earlobe, and sucked softly just to watch her reaction. She trembled her whole spine down, ran her hands down his chest and eyed him with the surreally dark brown eyes.

Soft or not, some things about Fujiko would never change and nearly delicate or not, she was clearly in control again. It was her choice to be soft, to display the softness, where, when, and how, and Zenigata could only choose to lay back and enjoy it. Haunted eyes slowly started to warm up like chocolate beginning to melt and the kisses she placed over the Inspector were more for her benefit than his own, but he couldn't pretend not to like it all the same.

"Fujiko," he mumbled in a soft voice, matching the situation, the soft hue from the tv, the soft temperature around them.

"Mm," she replied quietly as she kissed down his shoulders, seeking out the scars that only she knew about. Hell, some of them were because of her weren't they? She placed delicate lips over each ridge though, and her dark brown eyes kept a steady lock on Zenigata's face. It was almost too intimate coming from her, but with death possibly right around the corner, what did they really have to lose?

He eased her ass with small nudges over his waist and she reacted favorably, shivering again and letting out small moues of pleasure. She was adorable when she wanted to be. The only trouble was how rare such a thing really was from her. She pushed her wavy hair back with one hand, rocking on him harder and longer, taking him deeper inside of herself with each thrust until she started panting.

If last time had been all rough sparks and friction, like a match on flint, this was opposite, like a warm cozy blanket. Her nails weren't painted this time, less refined from her time probably carrying rifles and the machine guns instead of having time to make herself up like a painting. It was just as well since it meant that each time she ran her fingers over his chest she wasn't taking away entire grooves of skin, just brushing the muscles under her fingertips. She didn't bite either. And she didn't make a big show of any of it. She wasn't demure or exactly hidden, but between the jacket over her back and the dimn light, for what Zenigata had come to associate with Fujiko, it might as well have been.

"You're the only one..." she mumbled softly in between more kisses and the comfort sex. It reminded him vaguely of one of those fancy French pastries she claimed to love - unless she was on a diet. "The only one I'll let see this side of me."

He hated when she said things like that. Maybe it was true, and maybe it wasn't, but what was he supposed to do with it? It made him feel weak and needed at all once. Was it more of her manipulative lies? Did it even matter? He was never going to understand what she wanted from him. What she saw in him. Whether she saw it in anyone else, and whether that even mattered.

It wasn't love. It never would be. Not in a traditional romantic sense anwyay. The more fragile Fujiko was, the more Zenigata needed to protect her, and neither of them would ever let themselves fall in love with the other. That would just wreck everything. But whatever it was, they were there for each other when the other things were needed. Job things, political things, subterfuge things. Everything was subterfuge and it was a mess, and things like this didn't straighten any of it out either.

"Thank you Koichi," she whispered breathlessly before closing her eyes and coming tightly around him.

He couldn't have said anything to that even if he wanted, and the lump in his throat was back and larger than ever so he just closed his eyes so he didn't have to see the dark brown eyes haunted and mixed with joy. He didn't think he could be strong enough to see that and still hold his own the way she needed him to.

Fujiko was not a cuddly person, but after she was finished with him, she stubbornly clung to his shoulders for continued safety, as if his touch could shield her from any amount of foes. It was heartening in a way, even if he rather doubted its efficacy. "Want to try to get some sleep in the bed?" he suggested quietly, and moved her hair to frame her face instead of blocking off her eyes some more.

She shrugged indecisively. She probably would have slept under his jacket on the couch if he let her. Like a wet kitten indeed. He sighed quietly, picked her up and carried her to the bed, tucking her in like a child. "Fujiko," he kissed her cheek, "It'll be better in the morning, you'll see."

She gave him that weak smile again and didn't say a word. He had suspected the sex wouldn't really make her feel better, but maybe she was just tired now. The smile didn't reach the dark haunted eyes at all though and that made him nervous all over again.

The Inspector set up a few extra traps for Fujiko's benefit, it wouldn't stop the KGB, but it would slow them down, and maybe give the girl enough peace of mind to actually get some rest. He didn't even want to think about how long she must have been on the run without taking any breaks. Ever since she realized she was in over her head at least. It was the only thing that kept her alive: running when she realized how deep she was. Zenigata was planning to act as a guard dog at the foot of the bed, keeping watch with his gun and a dozen hundred handcuffs, but Fujiko tugged him closer to her.

"Koichi..." she pouted, throatily calling his name in his ear and tugging him back to join her.

He grunted and let her pull him to wherever she wanted. He kept his arms over her and showed her where the guns were in case she wanted to grab them herself. It was strange, that he could trust a doublecrosser like Fujiko with his own gun, but Fujiko was always an exception. She was a doublecrosser for him, and Zenigata was dead certain she'd never shoot him even accidentally. She'd be more likely to shoot Lupin than him, strangely enough. "Thank you," she mumbled again quietly and curled up against his side, wearing only a sheet and her own garter belts of guns.

Another quiet grunt, and he quietly closed his eyes. He wasn't going to sleep, it was too dangerous. He just needed to focus on listening in the darkness rather than try to see anything, that was all.

The first thing Koichi noticed was the daylight. "_DAMN!_" he swore hoarsely and scrambled out of the unkempt bed. He stumbled haphazardly into pants and belt, grabbing his jitte and other miscellaneous weapons as he went, trying to shield his eyes from the sunlight filtering into the hotel room and grumbling to himself about needing his hat - which was probably on the hat rack where it belonged, but _not_ where it was convenient, damn it!

Then he realized Fujiko and about half of the traps he'd laid out last night were gone, and his blood went ice cold. How did he sleep through something like that? Had they already taken her? Had he already failed his promise to her? Had he been knocked unconscious? No... he was missing any unfamiliar bumps to the head and there wasn't that usual groggy feeling from tranquilizers or sleeper holds. His eyes narrowed and he carefully kicked aside a few of his extra traps to check the front of the room and the sofa.

It was almost like he'd dreamed the entire incident. Fujiko, the KGB, the tv last night, the orange juice. Zenigata tugged on a button up shirt and surreptitiously did up a few of the buttons before checking the fridge as if it was going to explode the minute he opened it. No bombs, it was exactly like he'd left it last night, minus a few drops of orange juice.

He ran a hand through his hair in bewilderment. It wasn't a dream, but even when Fujiko was cleaning up her trails she didn't leave things _this_ neat. And if Lupin had been there, he would have left a calling card. Or drawn on Zenigata's face just to be an ass. Still, Zenigata very much doubted that the KGB would have been quite so polite. So, it had to mean that Fujiko herself disarmed and stole a few of the traps, cleaned out every trace of herself she could and then left before anyone could catch up with her.

He sighed to himself and sat on the couch with his head in his hands. "Now what?" he asked himself.

He couldn't exactly chase after her, he didn't know where she was going, and seeing as he couldn't hide his charters like she did, it would probably just endanger her even if she tried. Fuck, that was probably why she'd left anyway. To avoid them both getting in trouble. Still, it was a strange feeling. Weird, new, and not entirely comfortable. She'd used him for a one-night stand and he had no idea when or if he'd even see her again. No, no one could ever call Fujiko Mine your typical woman at all.

Well, at least she'd taken some of his traps with her. Maybe it wouldn't do any good, but maybe it would. Besides, at least Zenigata's traps were a thousand times more refined than those nasty beartraps she was so fond of throwing on people.

So that's it then. Case closed. Not that it had ever really been opened.

Zenigata finished buttoning the shirt, loosely grabbed a tie, though he didn't do it up yet, and finished off the rest of the orange juice. Ugh... now he knew why she gave him that look for it. Maybe he should have checked the sell-by date on it.

He was just finishing packing his suitcase to grab a flight to Cairo or Timbuktu or wherever it was ICPO was sending him now, when there was a knock at his hotel room door.

"Security," a gruff voice behind the door called.

His hand went for a pair of cuffs and the jutte before he remembered he didn't even have anything to hide anymore. Fujiko was long gone, and even if they tried to beat the information out of him, he hadn't the faintest idea where she'd go. She had connections all over the world, and ties to nowhere.

"Hang on," he growled irritably, straightened his jacket, and got the door. "Yeah?" he fixed them with as stern a glare as he could. Mooks in sunglasses and tuxedos. Oh yeah, that wasn't suspicious at all.

They walked in past him and opened all the doors. "We're looking for a well-known terrorist," one held up a paper that Zenigata assumed either had to be a Russian warrant for Fujiko's head, or at least some sort of forged equivalent. Zenigata arched an eyebrow. Fujiko was a lot of things, but a terrorist wasn't one of them. Whatever. They could slap whatever label on her they wanted, it didn't mean that they could get it stick.

"Search away. I'm alone, as you can see," Zenigata stifled a yawn over a fist. He needed a coffee. Maybe he could sleep on the plane... to wherever. "And I'm running a little late for a plane so if you don't mind-"

He moved to go around them, but a gorilla-sized grip on his shoulder stopped him. "Hold it Inspector," the mook took off his sunglasses and put them in a chest pocket. Well, so much for hoping they didn't know he was with Interpol, but maybe he could use that to his advantage. "Fujiko Mine. Was she here?"

Zenigata _really_ didn't like anything about the Russian. Not his accent, the way he was purposely trying to be menacing, and definitely not the way he said Fujiko's name as if he had a right to. "If you're looking for your girlfriend, I suggest moving on. She's got a history of using and dumping men more famous than you, I promise," Zenigata stared evenly at the man.

"I'm not fooling around, Inspector," the Russian folded his arms grumpily. "She's an international terrorist plotting a coup against global powers, _including_ Japan."

Zenigata let out a barking laugh in spite of himself. "That's old news. Like I said, search all you want, but you won't find anything. Now I've got a _coach_ flight I need to get in line for or they won't even get me my peanuts. Not all of us get to fly private jets, yeah?" Maybe if he was lucky they would take it as a clue as to where Fujiko was going, or how she was getting there. "Excuse me," he walked around the man, gave a polite Japanese bow and finished up his tie finally. "Don't take it hard if you don't find her though, she's pretty much a ghost."

He didn't explain that, and luckily, they didn't stop him long enough to try to figure it out.


End file.
